by Bec McMaster
“Always,” he pledged fervently.
“I’m sure that’s hardly necessary,” Alexandra broke in. “Sir Gideon has his own affairs to attend to. And I am surrounded by an entire coterie of loyal guards and servants.”
Gideon looked down, the swirls in the rug capturing his attention. He couldn’t trust himself to look at her in this moment, not without Malloryn seeing the truth in his eyes.
The incident at Haver Hall hovered between them.
He’d kissed her and she’d shoved him away, fright filling those dark eyes. He had pushed too far—taken far more than a mere gentleman like him was owed—and she had pushed back, and quite rightly.
He had tried to be the epitome of restraint and politeness ever since, but the ghost of that encounter lingered between them every damned time they were in a room together.
“If there is poison in the castle, then we cannot trust even the servants,” Malloryn said. “One member of the council must be with you at all times.”
“Sir Gideon is human,” she protested. “He won’t even be able to smell poison.”
“No,” Malloryn admitted, “but he is emphatically loyal, and while he and I may disagree on several matters of the realm, I trust him with your life.” Malloryn tipped his head toward Gideon with a wry smile. “I say that about very few people.”
“Malloryn—”
The duke simply strode toward the door, ignoring her, as he was wont to do at times. He fetched his cane. “I don’t care what personal grievance the pair of you have at the moment.” He gave her a stern look. “You have a responsibility to the realm to keep yourself alive and bloody safe, and you will obey my instructions in this. Stay with Sir Gideon until we can sweep Kensington and discover who put cyanide in your cordial.”
“Malloryn—!”
The door swung shut behind the duke.
And then they were alone.
“Curse that blackhearted bastard.” The queen balled her hands into fists. “How dare he walk away? How dare he!”
But she didn’t respond to the hint Malloryn had thrown into the room like a live bomb.
Sir Gideon waited for half a minute, until he was certain Malloryn would be out of hearing distance. When he looked at her face, he couldn’t help catching his breath, for she looked like every single one of his dreams, molded into flesh.
And just like a dream, he feared his hopes toward her would evaporate if he ever dared reach out and touch her again.
“You will be safe, Alexa.”
“You shouldn’t call me that,” she said tartly.
He gave a sad little shrug. “Safe from everything—including my attentions.” At the sight of her startled look, he headed toward the door. Best to set matters straight before she worked herself into a state of nerves. Though she’d never said a word about the encounter, they hadn’t been alone in a room together ever since. “I’ll ring for some tea. I daresay it’s going to be a long night.”
Chapter 4
“What have you got for me?” Malloryn demanded as he entered the makeshift headquarters the Company of Rogues had commandeered at Kensington Palace.
“Tea, Your Grace,” Charlie said, handing him a cup of bloodied tea.
“Not precisely what I had in mind.” He took a sip regardless. “Gemma?”
The entire membership of COR was gathered around the table. Gemma lounged at the head, looking as though she’d singlehandedly broken the hearts of everyone in the court that night. Leadership suited her. And so did love. It cast a glow across her features that he’d never seen her wear before.
“We’ve questioned the maids who handled the tea service,” Gemma replied, her shoulders squaring. “I’m fairly certain the pair of them had nothing to do with the poisoning. One is absolutely distraught at the thought, and the other has been in the queen’s service since she was on short strings. She’s so emphatically loyal to the queen, I thought she was going to throw me through the window at the mere suggestion she’d had a hand in it.”
He glanced at Obsidian, who nodded.
“Both maid’s emotional reactions rang true,” the former assassin said. “It’s too easy. It’s not the maids. They’d be the first to be suspected.”
“Who else had access to the queen’s antechamber?”
Gemma started listing members of the royal household.
“Your Grace?” Ava lifted her hand. Though she was rapidly approaching the birth of her first child, it had done nothing to hamper her effectiveness as an investigator.
“Yes?”
“I suspect our poisoner isn’t an expert.”
Ava only ever spoke when she was certain of the evidence. “Go on.”
“Firstly, there were several of the queen’s favorite lemon cakes on the tray, which were also laced with cyanide. Sugar seems to dull the effect cyanide has on a body. A good poisoner would know that. Her cordial is also sweet. I haven’t finished analyzing how much cyanide was laced within the drink, but why risk diluting its effects?”
“Hmm.” He rubbed at his jaw. “Interesting. What else?”
“Barrons said rumor began circulating throughout the ball barely half an hour after the queen removed to her rooms following her dance. Alexandra said she couldn’t have spent more than fifteen or twenty minutes refreshing herself before she returned to the antechamber where Ava was waiting,” Gemma added.
It was a little eerie how well-aligned their thought processes were. Though he had completed her training. “Sir Gideon mentioned the same.”
“Which gives us a ten-minute window between the queen accepting the cordial and rumor spreading.” Gemma’s eyes narrowed. “Only the guards witnessed my assault on the queen, and you had the room locked down.”
“So there was either someone watching—our poisoner, we may presume,” Byrnes broke in, “or someone in the ballroom was aware of what was about to happen.”
“Obsidian and I will reinvestigate the queen’s antechamber to see if there are any hidden niches one can observe from.” Gemma pushed away from the table. “Byrnes, I want you and Charlie pursuing the kitchens lead. Find that cyanide for me.” She seemed to notice Malloryn was still there. “Unless Your Grace has another preference?”
He waved her away. “You’re in command.”
She arched a brow. “I hate you sometimes.”
“You were born for this role,” he replied. “And I enjoy seeing you in action.”
“Fine.” Gemma brushed nonexistent lint from her sleeve. “Then I’m going to set you and your wife into action too. None of us can question the occupants of the ballroom. Foreign princes aren’t likely to respond to servants like us—”
“I ain’t a fuckin’ servant,” Kincaid growled.
“In their eyes you may as well be,” Malloryn murmured. He nodded. “Sir Gideon heard the rumor from Lady Baumbury. I’ll set Adele upon her and see if we can trace these whispers back to their source. Anything else, my Lady Rogue?”
Gemma stuck her tongue out at him. “Don’t tempt me.”
“My search has been unfruitful,” Adele told him several hours later as she dumped her reticule on the table. “Lady Baumbury heard it from the Countess of Wessex, who heard of it from Lady Hendricks, who was in a circle of ladies when it was first mentioned, though she cannot recall where it originated from.”
“Which ladies?” Malloryn murmured.
Adele pinched the bridge of her nose. “Lady Boxden, Princess Imogen of York, two of the Russians—though Lady Hendricks mangled their names so badly I couldn’t confirm their identities—and Lady Abagnale.”
“Hmm.” He eased away from the table. Rumors were difficult to trace, though Adele had done better than he expected. “There are five female members of the Blood court here in London currently.”
“You favor the Russians?”
“Lady Boxden is a wealthy widow who lost her cruel husband in the revolution, thanks to the queen. She’s barely shed a tear for him. Princess Imogen is a snake, but she’s t
he queen’s cousin. She likes the comforts such proximity affords her. And Lady Hendricks might have the capacity for such maliciousness, but she wouldn’t be able to keep word of it to herself. I don’t know the Russians, but the Blood court is infamous for poisonings.”
“But why would they go to so much trouble when one of their princes is courting the queen?”
Malloryn smiled. “Why, indeed?”
Sir Gideon snapped his pocket watch open and then shut again. Five hours and no word. He trusted Malloryn’s capabilities, but this was beginning to seem nothing short of torture.
The queen’s head was bent over a book. She hadn’t spoken a word to him since he’d arrived and made that statement. To force the issue meant breaking his word; and he was loath to do that, especially to her.
He flicked his thumbnail under the pocket watch’s edge, popping it open again as he strolled toward the window.
“Good grief.” The queen slapped the book flat in her lap. “Can you stop doing that?”
He stilled. “Doing what?”
“Checking your bloody pocket watch. If you wish to leave so dearly, then leave. I have guards at the door.”
Sir Gideon straightened and popped the watch in his pocket. “I’m not going anywhere. And I don’t wish to leave. I was merely wondering what was taking Malloryn so long.”
“Malloryn is no doubt stirring a hornet’s nest,” the queen replied. “It’s what he does best.”
“You almost sound as if you admire him.”
She paused. “Few have been as loyal to me over the years. And while his methods may frustrate me at times, I do remember that.”
“He frustrates me frequently,” Sir Gideon admitted. “He wears all the arrogance of his class, though his loyalties cannot be questioned.”
The queen set her book aside. “He may be a blue blood, and yet, it was his voice that recommended I choose you for the new council in the wake of the revolution.”
Sir Gideon’s eyebrows rose. He’d always wondered about that. He’d been head of the Humans First political party, the son of a minor house who’d forged a career in politics with his pacifist ways. Though he’d worked with the Duchess of Casavian to channel funds to the revolutionaries in the streets, he’d never expected to be named to the council.
“And now I owe him a favor,” he grumbled. “I do wish you hadn’t told me that.”
“I trust him,” she continued, “because while he is a managing busybody who cannot keep his nose out of anyone’s business, he is also able to make decisions for the good of the realm, even when they do not necessarily benefit him. He makes suggestions he doesn’t like, because he knows they are the right suggestions to make. And if you tell him I said that, then I will deny it with all my breath.”
Sir Gideon shot her a faint smile. “Malloryn doesn’t need compliments. He’s already filled with his own sense of self-importance. And I would never repeat your confidences.”
“I know.” Her voice came soft. “I wouldn’t take you into them if I didn’t think you too were loyal.”
The fire in the grate crackled in the ensuing silence.
“I would never betray you,” he murmured.
“I know.”
“And I would never—”
“I know,” she snapped.
His lips thinned, but he hadn’t won his way to the head of a political party by buckling at the slightest hint of stubbornness. “You don’t know. For you didn’t allow me to finish my sentence.”
The queen stared at her hands. “You would never betray me. You are my most loyal subject. You believe in me. I’ve heard it all before, Gideon.”
“I would never hurt you, is what I was going to say.” He poured the pair of them a cordial. “Though I’ve never had cause to say that before.”
Their eyes met as she accepted the cordial, and he could feel the faint tremor in her fingers as they brushed against his.
“I know,” she whispered. “You would never hurt me.”
It eased some of the tension within him.
Ever since he’d kissed her and she’d shoved him away, he’d felt as though a hot coal lingered in his stomach.
He had never set hands upon a woman who had not wanted his attentions, but this one most crucial time, he had misread her affections. And it curdled inside him, a secret shame that ate away at the honor at the very core of him.
“You should be resting,” he told her. “Not sitting up and waiting for Malloryn to return.”
“I barely had a sip of the poison, Sir Gideon. And you are not in any position to be telling me what I should or should not do.”
Frustration got the better of him. “Forgive me for caring about my queen’s health.”
She shot him a startled look, then her eyes narrowed. “Your queen is going to survive the night, Sir Gideon. Lay your mind at rest. You won’t be forced to deal with my replacement just yet.”
“That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it.”
She set the empty glass aside and stood. “Do I?”
He wanted to tear out his hair.
It was one thing to watch her marry another. He’d always known it would come to this. She was the Queen of Britain, and he was merely a minor nobleman’s son who’d risen to prominence through his political aspirations during the revolution. There had never been any hope for them.
But the foolish part of his heart that squeezed in his chest every time he saw her didn’t care.
She was the woman he loved.
She was the woman he would always love, come what may.
Gideon threw back his cordial, then set the glass down with a hard crack. “I think we need to discuss what happened at Haver Hall.”
“You kissed me,” she blurted.
“And I apologized for that, most profusely. I had… misinterpreted your intentions and I was swept away in the moment. I should never have dared lay—"
A sharp rap came at the door, startling the pair of them.
The queen swished away from him, looking cool and regal. He hated how she could seemingly wipe the storm of emotion from her face in the blink of an eye—for all his skill with diplomacy, he could never quite manage it.
“Come in,” she called.
Malloryn entered, stark in black. “Your Majesty.” He bowed, then nodded toward Gideon.
“Any news?” Despite his frustration, Gideon got straight to the heart of the matter.
“My men have discovered the cook who laced the cordial and cakes with cyanide,” Malloryn said grimly. “Unfortunately, he managed to take his own life before my Rogues could apprehend him, and we don’t know why he made this attempt.”
“A cook?”
Why would one of the palace servants bear such a grudge?
“I daresay it was a crime of opportunity, and the cook merely a playing piece in someone else’s game,” Malloryn replied. “My crime scene analyst assures me she’s tested the amount of cyanide in your cordial and it’s not enough to have killed you, though the ongoing complications may have made your health suffer dramatically. It was also placed in your cordial on a servant drone’s tray, which anyone could have sipped from. The cook was no expert poisoner, which is a clue in itself—this was either a sloppy attempt made by a desperate man on behalf of someone else; an attempt to incapacitate you, rather than kill you; or merely a disgruntled servant taking matters into his own hands.”
“Doubtful,” Gideon murmured.
“I agree,” Malloryn conceded.
“So we don’t know who was behind all of this?” the queen said breathlessly.
“Not yet. But I will find them.”
“Who would want to incapacitate her?” He didn’t know why, but that option caught his attention. The prince consort had kept the queen plied with laudanum and wine, and while she kept herself severely restrained now, he couldn’t help thinking of the listless way she’d once signed court documents.
“I don’t know.” Malloryn met his gaze. “Yet. If the queen’s
health declined, the council would be in control of the empire until a regent could be appointed. But the council would be the one to appoint a regent, and so I cannot see this as a power grab.”
Alexandra turned toward the fireplace, holding her hands out to the fire as if she felt a sudden chill. “It could be a ploy to force my hand,” she whispered. “If I were struck ill, then Britain would be at a disadvantage. And you were right. I have no heir. Someone might be pushing me to forge a marriage as swiftly as possible. Failing that, it might be an attempt to force me to name an heir.”
A thought occurred. “Maybe you weren’t meant to drink the cordial? Unless they were completely inept, the culprit must know you’re surrounded by blue bloods who might be able to smell the cyanide. It’s a noticeable scent. Perhaps it was a scare attempt?”
Malloryn’s brows notched together. “I didn’t think of that. I’ll add those motives to the list.”
The queen nodded, but she looked a little more fragile in the early dawn light streaming through the windows.
It was one thing to know someone had put poison in your cordial; quite another to be coolly discussing why.
He wanted to reach out to her and clap a hand upon her shoulder. To set her mind at ease, somehow, and remind her that she was not alone.
But he did not have that right.
“I’m going to set a rotation of my female Rogues at your side at all times,” Malloryn told her. “Gemma and Lark are both blue bloods, and Ingrid is verwulfen. If someone makes another attempt, they should be able to prevent it.”
“And in the meantime?” Alexandra asked.
“Continue as you were. Let’s not let them think us cowed by this attempt. We want to draw them out and encourage them to make another attempt.” Malloryn smiled. “Only this time, we’ll be aware that it’s coming.”
Chapter 5
The Royal Exhibition began the next day.
Alexandra pasted a smile on her face and went about her daily business as though there was nothing out of the ordinary. She breakfasted on the terrace, finished her correspondence, and then met the Duchess of Casavian by the carriage at 11am.
